


resulting friction

by palmcitrus



Series: every third echo [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Teasing, Wall Sex, jon and tim’s style of flirting is just being irritating, they continue to be completely unsubtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmcitrus/pseuds/palmcitrus
Summary: Jon eyes him, visibly wary of his chippy tone, the way he leans in close. “Why does that matter? It’s never seemed to bother you before.”He shrugs. “I just thought you might want to make things easier for Martin, right?”A blush instantly rises to Jon’s cheeks at Martin’s name, which he then immediately scowls over. Tim allows himself a grin as Jon haughtily turns back to his laptop. “I’ll organize them however I find most fitting,Tim.”
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist (mentioned), Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker (implied)
Series: every third echo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810348
Comments: 18
Kudos: 360





	resulting friction

“You know,” Tim says, leaning in to hover directly over Jon’s shoulder, “I would never _dream_ of telling you how to do your job, as you are my wonderful, brilliant, and very capable supervisor, _buuut_ if you kept these boxes in chronological order after going through them, it would go much quicker when we’re moving them back up to storage.”

Jon eyes him, visibly wary of his chippy tone, the way he leans in close. “Why does that matter? It’s never seemed to bother you before.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might want to make things easier for Martin, right?”

A blush instantly rises to Jon’s cheeks at Martin’s name, which he then immediately scowls over. Tim allows himself a grin as Jon haughtily turns back to his laptop. “I’ll organize them however I find most fitting, _Tim_.”

“Well, you’re the boss,” Tim says cheerily, and saunters away like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

  
  


“Does anybody have the…” Jon starts, stepping out of his office, before looking up. “Oh. Where’s everyone else?”

Tim swivels in his chair. “Martin’s off gathering research at the library. So helpful, isn’t he?”

Cue the scowl. “Where’s Sasha, then.”

“I dunno. Hey, do you think Martin is strong enough to carry these boxes to document storage with me? I’ve been having some trouble doing it alone, and his arms are so—”

“You’re _useless_ ,” Jon says loudly, and slams the door of his office. Tim cackles to himself.

  
  


“Tim, do you know where the Tutorino case file is—?”

“Oh, I’m busy, sorry. Maybe you should ask Martin to help you?”

 _“Tim,”_ Jon says, like a warning.

Martin stands from his desk, announces, “Busy too, sorry, ask Sasha,” and practically flees, though not before Tim clocks the flush on his neck. He and Sasha both snicker, and Tim grins at the way Jon’s fingers tighten around his mug.

It’s almost too easy to get the two of them flustered, really. Sasha rolls her eyes.

  
  


“Hey, boss,” Tim says, the hour hand pointed just after four. “It’s only Monday. You don’t need to stay late tonight. You’ve probably got better things to do.”

“Tim, the regular work day isn’t even over yet,” Jon says. “Why would you assume I was planning to stay late?”

“Just making sure. Plus, you’re a workaholic, and your job performance can’t possibly be better on three hours of sleep.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “What happened to never dreaming of telling me how to do my job?”

“Well, you took so long on finding that last file, I think I dozed off,” Tim says, grinning. “Guess I had time to dream of it.” Jon scoffs. “But seriously. You should _really consider_ getting out of the office tonight, hm?”

Jon ignores him, which is fine. The day isn’t over yet.

  
  


At 4:45, Tim glances inconspicuously over at Jon. He’s sifting through a box of papers on Sasha’s desk, laser-focused as expected, with no signs of slowing down. 

He glances at Martin. He’s similarly focused, tapping away on his laptop.

Tim pushes himself up out of his chair and heads casually over to where Martin sits, absently biting his lip. “Hey,” he says, bending over the desk, propping his chin in hand, closer to Martin’s face than is strictly professional. “What’s up?”

Martin looks up and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Nothing much,” he says. “Just doing my work. Like you should be.”

“No need to be a suck up,” Tim pouts. “You’re caught up on everything. And you did a really good job on this case. Hey—” he reaches out with his other hand, runs his fingers over the fabric of Martin’s jumper. He lets his thumb just barely graze his neck. “Is this new?”

“Tim,” Jon says from behind him, his voice sounding tight and careful. _Bingo._ “Get back to work.”

“I’ve been working, I’m taking a break,” he says. “I finished going through the Tutorino phone records.”

“Well, you should still—”

“Oh! I just remembered,” Tim interrupts, straightening up. “I think I accidentally took home a jacket of yours the other day. Did you wanna come pick it up after work?”

They have a brief silent conversation where Jon’s glare says, _you’re not subtle at all,_ and Tim responds with a challenging eyebrow, _yeah, why does that matter, Martin already knows,_ and Jon’s glare somehow intensifies because he has no real response to that. 

Tim lets his gaze wander pointedly down Jon’s body. Jon scoffs and slams the box shut, heading for the door. “Yes, fine, I’ll swing by and grab it tonight,” he mutters, and Tim doesn’t miss the way the tips of his ears have gone red.

  
  


Jon’s stubborn scowl doesn’t let up the whole tube ride home. 

“Hm, you know what, I don’t think your jacket’s here, actually,” Tim says, as they step through the threshold of his flat. “But for some weird reason I feel like you already knew that.”

Jon takes off his coat. “Shut up.”

“Now, Jon, that’s no way to talk to your beloved coworker,” Tim says, ambling over to the living room to drop his keys onto the table. “Especially one who you spent all day torturing with unnecessary critiques.”

“You’re the one who spent the whole day being an obnoxious prick,” Jon says. “Could hardly focus getting any work done while you were there bothering me. I really should be staying late to catch up.”

“It’s not like you would’ve gotten anything done anyway,” Tim says. He finally turns to face him, and his face breaks into a grin. 

Jon has nudged his shoes and socks off and is now quickly unbuttoning his shirt. Tim watches with an amused anticipation as he shrugs it off his shoulders and grabs the hem of his white undershirt, the scowl still on his face. 

“You’re not as productive as you think you are without us,” he continues. “Me and Sasha and _Martin_ do most of your work for you anyway.”

“Fuck off,” Jon says, already crossing the room. He flings his undershirt to the side, finally bare-chested, and kisses Tim hard. 

Tim moans into his mouth and lets him push him up against the wall. Neither of them doubt who’s physically stronger between the two of them, but it’s still nice to let Jon be the one to take charge every once in a while. It’s not often he gets in a mood like this, just taking what we wants impatiently—but their ridiculous needling-as-foreplay seems to really do it for Jon. (Not that Tim can honestly say he’s unaffected by it, too. Something about seeing how well he can rile Jon up is immensely satisfying.)

And Tim isn’t quite done being annoying, anyway. 

“Work isn’t everything, Jon,” he says, and pauses around an inhale as Jon licks over his pulse. “Plus, Martin went home on time like a normal person, so you would’ve been alone late anyway, which isn’t safe. Hey, did you notice Martin’s new jumper today?”

“God—stop fucking talking about Martin,” Jon growls, not pulling away from Tim’s neck. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, and he almost wishes Jon could see his smirk. “Too soon?”

Jon bites him. Tim whimpers a little. “Shut up. It was a one-time thing.”

“Right,” he says. “Y—oh, _Jon_...”

Jon palming his hand over Tim’s dick does effectively distract him, at least for long enough for Jon to lean up again and catch his mouth in a kiss. 

Tim considers taking over now, lifting Jon by his thighs and depositing him soundly in his bed, but the change of pace is a nice treat, rare as it is. Besides, he’s distantly curious about what he can nudge Jon into doing through just sheer annoyance. 

Jon mouths over his jaw, moving slow and thorough until he reaches his earlobe. He nips at it, presses a kiss to the spot just underneath, and unzips Tim’s fly.

This close, it’s probably easy for Jon to hear the quiet noises Tim’s making under his breath, probably easy to feel the way his heart pounds in his chest.

Jon sinks to his knees.

Tim groans at the sight. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he says, a little breathless, letting one hand stroke through the soft gray-streaked strands of his hair.

Jon just hums and tugs his pants off. Tim is already pretty much fully hard, which is both mildly embarrassing and unsurprising. “What am I doing, then?”

“Distracting me by being assertive,” he says. He bites his lip as Jon ducks his head and presses a kiss to the crease of his thigh. “Mixing it up. Trying to catch me off guard.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

“ _No,_ don’t stop, you wanker— _ah—_ but don’t think I’m letting this go.”

“How inconsiderate of you,” Jon says, then takes him in his mouth. 

Tim gasps, tipping his head back. After a moment of working to regain the ability to form a coherent sentence, he breathes, “And don’t think I’m letting you take charge the whole time, either.”

If Jon’s eyes weren’t closed Tim is sure he’d roll them, but as is, he just pushes down deeper, taking his cock into the back of his throat. He lingers there a second before pulling back, letting his tongue slide up along the underside and swirl around the head. Tim’s hips stutter despite his best efforts to keep still. 

Jon slides his hands up the sides of Tim’s thighs, moves around briefly to squeeze at his ass, and pulls his mouth off with a pop when Tim’s hips thrust forward ever so slightly.

“Be considerate, please, Tim,” he says, obviously trying to look innocent behind his smug grin. “Stay still for me, won’t you?”

“Oh, like you’ve never had me fuck your mouth before,” Tim says. His voice is growing more breathy, but he still maintains the effort towards sarcasm.

“Well, that’s not what I want from you right now.”

“What do you want from me, then, hm?”

“I want you,” Jon says, smiling up sweetly as he strokes his hand slowly up and down his thigh, “to shut the hell up.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Well, I feel like this isn’t the most efficient way to—fuck, Jon, God—” 

His jaw falls open as Jon takes him back in his mouth, squeezing at his ass again as he does. The combination of his warm, wet mouth and his nails digging into his flesh is making heat bloom across Tim’s skin.

Jon pulls off briefly. “Seems to be working fine,” he says, smirking up at him, then gets back to it. 

Tim’s instinct, as it always is, is to keep talking. He’s never been the silent type in bed and he knows how much of an impact words can have on lots of people, including Jon. But Jon is mixing it up tonight, and Tim is in a generous mood, and he’s just intrigued enough to be willing to follow his lead and let him think he’s winning, at least for now. So he quiets himself, letting the majority of the noises through his mouth be just that—moans and gasps and the occasional choked-off _fuck, fuck—_ instead of the fully-formed strings of praise and promise he usually goes for. 

It’s a few more fantastic minutes of this, just biting his tongue around whimpers and reveling in the assertive back-and-forth of Jon’s tongue, before Tim realizes he’s close. 

“I-I’m gonna come,” he stutters, looking down to push a loose lock of hair out of Jon’s face. His eyes open, and Tim groans as he looks up at him through his lashes. “Shit, Jon, you look so good down there. Even if it didn’t—ngh—feel so good I could probably still get off just watching you.”

Jon, in response, moans and swirls his tongue in the way he knows Tim likes, and this time when Tim bucks his hips he doesn’t pull off to tease. 

“Ahh, shit, Jon—I’m gonna—oh—”

Jon’s hands vanish from his ass, and the warmth of his mouth leaves Tim’s cock, only to quickly be replaced by one of those clever hands. He strokes him quick and hard, and it’s only seconds before Tim is gasping out a long, stuttering whine and coming over his fist. 

Jon’s strokes slow as he comes down from it. Tim looks down at him again, and notices Jon’s other hand between his own legs, palming at the bulge in his trousers. The sight stirs something in Tim. 

He uses the hand still tangled in Jon’s hair to pull him up. Jon moans lowly as he does. “Good?” he murmurs, like it’s a genuine question, right before Tim kisses him. 

“Fucking great,” Tim says, and kisses him again. “Your turn leading is over, by the way.”

“W—” His question is knocked out of his mouth as Tim spins them around, pressing Jon’s back against the wall. Tim’s hands are already undoing his belt, his zipper, tugging everything down, off. Jon kicks them out of the way. 

Tim’s mouth envelops his, his feet nudge Jon’s own to spread his legs a bit wider, and he lets his hands wander his body. He runs his hands over Jon’s torso, slow and gentle at first but then possessive and firm at his waist, pushing him where he wants him. He knows how Jon appreciates a bit of manhandling. 

Jon, meanwhile, has been working at Tim’s shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. Once he gets them all he pushes impatiently, trying to pull the shirt off Tim’s shoulders without separating. 

Tim laughs, takes a half-step back to give them space, and shrugs the shirt to the floor. They’re both completely bare now. Jon’s eyes take in the sight of his body, and Tim just watches him watch. “Alright?”

Jon smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and a hand cards through Tim’s hair, pulling him down into a kiss. 

Tim decides then that he’s not going to go down on Jon tonight. Kissing him, being face-to-face, is much too nice, and the feeling of his tongue sliding against his own is far too intoxicating to give up. 

He uses one hand to lift Jon’s leg, holding it over his hip, and lets the other drift between Jon’s legs. 

Jon tenses, gasping into his mouth, and bucks his hips forward a little, searching for contact. 

He glances down to where Jon is hard between them. “Fuck, Jon.”

“Please,” he pants, grinding up shamelessly towards him. 

Never let it be said that Tim isn’t generous. He takes the base of Jon’s cock in hand and delivers a firm stroke up and down. 

“ _Oh,_ T-Tim,” Jon says, high and breathy, and something goes warm and reverent in Tim’s chest at the sound of his name said like that.

He immediately shuts off that line of thinking. _Not the time for feelings, Stoker. Compartmentalize._

He’s free to watch, though, since Jon’s eyes are screwed shut in pleasure, and watching him bite his lip around a whine is making it worth not getting his mouth on him. He’s beautiful, and Tim has always noticed it, but there are times like this when it just crashes into him all over again. When Tim twists his hand, Jon’s eyes fly open. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” he says, sounding hoarse. “Come here, come here—” he pulls Tim closer, locking one leg around him as best he can at this angle, slotting their bodies together so his face is buried in Tim’s neck. The contact is _good _, Tim can smell the faint sweet almond of his hair, and the press of his skin against Tim’s is divine. The sudden intimacy catches him off-guard.__

____

____

The rhythm of Tim’s hand falters when Jon latches his mouth onto the spot just above his collarbone and sucks. It’s a solid few seconds before he can regain the steady motion, or the ability to do much else other than groan. He speeds up, and says, “Fucking hell, Jon.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, just barely pulling away. “That’s what you get for being annoying.”

Tim huffs out a laugh. “You’re one to talk. You— _ah—_ you’re the one who was all jealous.”

The motions of Jon’s hips are becoming more desperate. “ _Jealous,_ don’t be stupid—I was not—”

He sucks harder on Tim’s neck, stifling his gasps. This is definitely going to leave a mark. 

“God, you’re too much,” Tim gasps, aiming for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. “It’s fine, nothing to be embarrassed about, I know how fun kissing Martin is—”

Jon’s movements suddenly stutter off-rhythm. His jaw falls open, releasing the skin of Tim’s neck, and with a punched-out moan, he comes. 

Tim blinks in surprise but doesn’t let up the movements of his hand until Jon slumps against his shoulder. He gently moves his hand to his shoulder and lays a kiss on Jon’s temple. 

Jon is still breathing hard as Tim disentangles them, his cheeks a very pretty shade of pink. When he finally opens his eyes, they’re broadcasting some combination of embarrassment and apprehension, like he’s waiting to see what Tim will say. 

There’s a moment of awkwardness as Tim considers not saying anything. This...should probably be talked about, though. 

He lets out a little huff that could almost be a laugh. “So. I’m guessing that means you’re really into him, then—”

“Tim,” Jon interrupts, looking almost pained. “I don’t—is it okay if we don’t—” he sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. Is it alright if we drop it for now? I’m still thinking about it.”

“Of course,” he says instantly, and leans forward to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead. He pauses for a second after pulling back. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Jon’s shoulders relax microscopically. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

They take turns in the bathroom. By the time Tim emerges, teeth brushed, Jon is already lying still and silent in bed, his chest rising and falling slowly. He’s always been quick to fall asleep after sex. Tim doesn’t mind. 

He slides under the covers next to him and flicks off the light. To his faint surprise, Jon rolls over, slings an arm over his stomach, and presses a single, soft kiss to his jaw before curling in closer and resting his head on Tim’s chest. 

Tim lies awake for a while after that, staring at the ceiling in the dark, feeling his soft breath tickling his skin. He thinks about Jon, and Martin, and lets the word _casual_ play on loop in his mind.

  


**Author's Note:**

> oh?? feelings??  
> leave a comment/kudos if u enjoyed!!💕


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